Broken Lands

by Boaz Klachkin

  Nairah was in her Gaza City office along with some aides. They were going through the difficult job of reconfirming the many recent pledges and grants that many international sponsors had promised to contribute. It was tiring work; however, powerful forces were driving her and her team. She was committed to accomplish the numerous goals that she had set out with the aid of her wonderful staff. Her team was with her all along the way, and now their motivation was greater than ever.

  Khaled walked into the office followed by two of his assistants, obviously busy, holding folders and speaking into his headset microphone. He came up to Nairah’s desk and sat on one of the large armchairs facing her.

  “Khaled, relax, you are all worked up. Everything is going well. You don’t have to be so frantic about things anymore. Please try to calm down.”

  He sighed in response and smiled. “You are quite right, Nairah. I would like for you to look at this list and mark off the people you would like to see. We have been getting so many requests to meet you, and I have been overwhelmed as it is with scheduling next week’s programming with the diplomatic representatives of the African nations.”

  “I will do the best I can, just as you have always done for me, my dear friend,” Nairah said warmly. “Khaled, thank you, and thank you all for everything,” she stated affectionately, being sure to make direct eye contact with each of his assistants and her personal staff that were present. It was clear to her how her mother managed all those years with Khaled at her side. His loyalty and high level of efficiency was something Nairah appreciated, and needed, on a constant basis.

  Khaled, Zaid and Jamal, along with the other founding members of the Inkasar party, had all trodden up a long, steep road, and the victorious results were rightfully theirs, as much as her mother’s. She smiled as she saw the content look on all of their faces as Khaled and his crew walked out of the office. The work atmosphere in every department of the Palestinian government was pleasant and calm. Everyone knew their job and did it with a special devotion and resilience, fueled by the satisfaction of having so much balance and freedom in their workplace.

  Jezabilah had anxiously waited for some time off. Just a short time ago, a prolonged vacation was something that seemed virtually improbable. Her confidence in her daughter and those associated with her was firm, now that all of her previous goals had been fulfilled. She was sure that things would work out just fine, especially with all the devoted members of government at Nairah’s side.

  The next day, when all of Nairah’s meetings were completed, Jezabilah walked into her daughter’s office and stood by her desk. Nairah sensed something about her mother’s body language, which meant some type of a surprise was ahead.

  “My dear daughter; I have to express something which has been in my heart and mind for too long. No one must ever know what I am about to tell you. So please turn off all the surveillance devices connected to this office.”

  Nairah immediately keyed some passwords on the computer and anxiously set her eyes on her mother. “Yes, Mom, what is this something you must tell me?”

  “Nairah, there is something, yes. It is a very important secret and must be protected as such.” She sighed for a second, anxiously pulled the chair next to Naira and sat down. “You have never known your father directly, and I want to tell you the truth behind the whole story. I have been hiding this secret for so long and now I feel that the time is right for me to share his identity with you.”

  She leaned over next Nairah and rather than speaking, as an extra measure of security, she clicked and opened a new Word document and began typing the following text: ‘When I first joined the Inkasar movement, I met a young Israeli intelligence agent who inspired me, and to whom I was extremely attracted. He was, and still is, our main contact with the Israeli Organization. The closeness we had eventually turned into a warm and loving relationship, which ultimately became intimate, resulting in my pregnancy. You are the wonderful culmination of that bond.’

  Nairah, eyes and mouth wide open with excitement exclaimed, “Jez!” She quickly keyed her response: ‘So, Mom please tell me. Who is my father?’

  Jezabilah continued to type: ‘You have seen him on many occasions. He has been the main Israeli source for our success. You know him well, his name is Yair’. Jezabilah took a big breath and exhaled. Nairah became choked up, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

  Completely in awe and filled with joy, Nairah responded by keying her words on the keyboard: ‘Oh, Mom, I am so delighted and happy. My heart is pounding so hard,’ she wrote excitedly. ‘I always liked Yair. There was something special in his demeanor and the way he treated and looked at me. Oh, Mom. I am so happy. Thank you, thank you! And thank you for letting me know. I am overjoyed. Oh, Mom! I love you. I have a father. A real father that I can love.’

  Jezabilah and Nairah stood up and embraced tightly, all the while Jezabilah stroked her daughter’s hair. She kissed her on the eyes and began sobbing as well.

  “Mom, I want to have dinner with the two of you. I need to catch up on so much.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time together, I promise. As soon as we get back from the vacation Yair and I have planned, we’ll set up some special time aside for telling the world about our true family.”

  “Have a great trip. You really deserve to get away. I am overjoyed, Mom. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too my darling daughter.” Jezabilah walked out of the Presidential office, tears running down her cheeks, her heart pounding hard from the excitement of the moment.

  Jezabilah and I met just a few minutes past one in the afternoon at Ben Gurion Airport. I have been captivated and amazed ever since the the minute I first set eyes on her, and as soon as she appeared at the terminal entrance, I realized that whatever was ahead for us was going to be a special period in our lives. A volcano of passionate feelings surged throughout my body. We embraced for what seemed like an eternity. She was dressed in a khaki, floral sarong with a fine tie front, and a silken, eyelet, linen blouse. Her dark sunglasses matched the deep, curry colored, textured blouse that she had spent hours picking out especially for this occasion. Our sizzling affair was unbreakable by either time or social norms.

  “Darling, I am a bit nervous about being here,” she told me, “but having you here is comforting.”

  “Don’t worry. No one will recognize you. You are stunningly beautiful, and I’m so happy we will get to enjoy some time together, and hopefully, we will be able to be together ever after.”

  She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me so warmly and passionately that I lost my balance. We walked casually towards the special services counter, looking for our transfer contact. I spotted the contact agent. He was standing by the boarding gate. I approached him with Jezabilah still clinging to me, her head tucked on my shoulder.

  “Trees, flowers and petals,” whispered the agent as we walked by him.

  ‘Silly code,’ I thought to myself.

  The contact was there not to just convey funny slogans and give general support; life was all about coverage and protection; these were the keys to survival. Secret Service Security was the way with which nations respected the most important individuals in their system, by providing them with a lifetime protection program wherever they might be. Evidently not only heads of state got this special treatment; Israel’s finest operators were now given the respectful treatment they truly deserved. The Knesset membership came to a realization that national heroes, whose honorable conduct used to go unsung and consequently unrecognized due to the nature of their work, should be candidates to receive special protection once they retired. Even though they were unknown to most, one could never be too cautious in a world where money - the root of all evil - still did a lot of talking. Now that the reality of having true partners in peace had been raised to new heights, protecting us was considered to be just as imperative as protecting the new actuality
which we helped bring about.

  As we passed through the corridor on the way to the waiting room at the flight departure wing, a news flash was being broadcast about an incredible expose in the Native American Union. Tom Jacobs was on the air, anchoring a special report. A group of archeologists had just reported the results of their examination of a three-century-old artifact. It had been wrapped in a cotton cloth whose origins were the Middle East. The item was a Torah; the Jewish Bible. It had an ornate covering with silver decorations; which covered the upper handles of the scroll. Some of the local Indians had remarked that in tales handed down from generation to generation, there were specifications of a magical scroll, written in God’s own alphabet. The age was determined by the wood of the axis supports of the scrolls. I thought to myself: ‘We really have been around as a people.’

  “This is one of the oldest, non-indigenous objects that had ever been found in these parts,” reported Tom Jacobs. “As you can see there is great excitement over this historical relic. People from all around the world are calling the station as I speak. One of the turning points in today’s activities was a call to the head archeologist Dr. Frank Simons by an Israeli government official who has stated that the Torah really belongs back in Israel, in the National Museum for all to see. However, my close friend, Moses has claimed the Torah for his nation’s Native American Heritage Museum, insisting that it belonged to Tree, their founding father.” Tom’s voice had an excited tone; as well it should, since most of his colleagues were already buzzing about the likelihood that he would win the Pulitzer Prize for his comprehensive work exposing the injustices suffered by the Native Americans all across the Americas: North, Central and South.

  Jez and I proceeded to the boarding gate, light-headed and overwhelmed with happiness. Our flight departed on time as the Boeing 898 took off over the Mediterranean Sea. Our arms, hands and fingers, were all woven together, feeling the tingling sensation that flowed through our bodies. There was no better feeling than perceiving a deep sense of passion for someone.

  “I love you, Jez,” I whispered passionately into her ear, and kissed her on the cheek. Suddenly, the events of her life raced through her mind. Jezabilah smiled and hugged me tightly, realizing that the future was going to be hopeful and bright for the rest of our lives. This was a new world with a new social order that she and I had been instrumental in molding; enabling peaceful coexistence, contentment and unification between people and nations.

  We hugged, and she said expressively, “I love you, Yair. I am so proud of you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you, darling. You have been my guardian angel.”

  “I am just so happy and lucky to be where I am, close to you, and deeply in love.” I sighed in relief, releasing all the apprehensions I had had up to that moment in time.

  “There is something I want to tell you.” As she gently brought my head closer to hers and whispered some words into my ear. I began to cry. She clutched my hands, and we kissed for what seemed like infinity. My heart was beating profusely, and my soul felt refreshed. Finally, she and I were free to enjoy life together and make up for the times we were apart.

  It has been a bloody horrific path for far too long, but now that the rampant immorality and extremism that have bred it have been put down, we must always be alert and resilient to identify the signs and warnings of any weakness in our perceptions and be ready to deal with any pending adversity.

  My overseeing and directives have been implanted deeply into the mechanisms behind the new alliance between our nations, and I am very proud of all that Jezabilah, Nairah and I have accomplished with the help of some very inspired politicians and members of the Organization and Inkasar

  Listen to the music of the cosmos and let it touch your heart. Hear and enjoy the eternal melodies and feel the spirit of life in the echoing currents of love that have been generated throughout eternal time. Make inspired love, not despicable war.

  THE END